Sides
by MelodyByrd
Summary: Just a short, little one-shot of what I think could and would have occurred early on in the journey. I don't really want to use the word "Fluffy", but... yeah. "Fluffy"-ish. There are no slashes (Sorry!)


**AN: I am** ** _not_** **the creator of these characters. If you think I'm** ** _that_** **imaginative then you should start your own comedy-club. I'll even provide the chairs. Oh wait. It's stand-up comedy. Never mind. J.R.R. Tolkien has that honor(Of owning them. I can't speak for the comedy-club). The only thing I own is what they** ** _do_** **and** ** _say_** **(i.e. not** ** _exactly_** **canon). Once last thing, then I'll leave you alone. I apologize for any mistakes in spelling, grammar, and the like. -**

"Why is he bleeding?" Thorin queers. He just entered the scene. His head roams from side to side looking for the culprit. If not the culprit than someone who will answer his amused question.

"Because he's an idiot." Balin supplies leaning back against one of the trees that swarm the river bank. He examines his nails as though this is a common question. Based off of the behavior of the past few days it's not surprising.

"I didn't know that idiocy caused people to just start spontaneously bleeding from the nose." Gandalf muses; clutching his staff to his chest and sporting a far-off look in his eyes.

"I think it's a new phenomenon." Fili guffaws. "You had it coming Kili." He shrugs. Kili is just sitting on the ground, compressing his nose, stunned. He didn't think that, _that_ was a possible outcome.

My light-set feet hardly give me away, normally. This is not a normal time though. Each squelch magnifies the magnitude of fury that, before this happened I would have denied was even possible. Least of all for me! My chest heaves rage fully. My wretched eyes are betraying me as they start to leak. (Hobbits _do not_ cry). My mouth is white from lack of blood supply and how much force they're under. Tense shoulders creep their way up towards ears. Hands are shaking, so they are then balled into fist to end that. The ground quakes as I stomp my hairy pads across the earthy sand morphing into the spongy, mulch-ous forest floor. My hair dripping and a shade or two darker as it is currently drenched with water. I angrily thwack away the low-hanging pine tree branch from my face. (In hindsight not a good idea as I then nurse my poor, abused hand). My thunderous steps lead me away from the brothers. Especially Kili. I have been nice… enough. These blundering, well, _fools_ is too harsh. These blundering people I've had to deal with for three days are driving me past the point of insanity. The first sign was when I agreed to accompany them three days, seven hours, thirty-eight minutes, and two seconds ago. That was when these rabble-rousers have intruded -Oh _pardon me-_ introduced themselves to me.

It was a violet hued rose-gold evening. Stars were flickering into existence. Wind brushed the hills and swayed the trees when one barged in as though he possessed my own wonderfully warm hobbit-hole and expected me to treat him as a guest. I, of course, stiltedly obliged. What _else_ was I to do? Thorin- as he introduced himself to be- was told to look for a special mark on a certain door in my area, and I had heard from Gandalf, the friendly wizard, earlier that day not at that time knowing that _he_ was the one who called all the oddities to my den. My eyelids furiously blinked of their own accord and simultaneously my mouth gaped with as much grace as a fish. My forehead needed ironing as confusion clouded my squinted eyes. Thorin brushed past me accepting my lack of articulation as awe. My confoundedness did not clear any time soon because just when I had retrieved my tongue another dwarf bumbled in. These other creatures clambered into my home slowly and filled out my table and chairs. As they sat down the seats squeaked and scraped with indignation, and with each and every merry pound of their meaty fists the table ominously rattled and quivered signifying it's emanate demise.

I do not consider myself an outrageous extrovert, but on the other hand, I do not count myself an anti-social introvert either. Thus, I like company. I enjoy throwing festivities, but only when I arrange it. If nothing else, I want to have knowledge that someone is coming -much less _someones._ These dwarves not only forsook the civility of warning the host of possible host-age, but the supplying of sustenance as well.

They took -excuse me- scarfed down my sweet, delicious, hard-earned sesame cakes. My thick, hickory-smoked sausages were inhaled without a second thought. The various cheeses I had cultivated were fair game. My mead, rum, and other beverages were dwindled and drained as though second nature. For Bombur, which I am sure is what the fat one is called, it very well may be. After a time -meaning the cavernous stomachs were filled- Gandalf enlightened the entire party that I, Bilbo Baggins, am to be their robber. I was stunned and said no; which apparently equaled yes in my shell-shocked mind, and that lead me to scampering across the plains of my home. I abandoned my refuge to quench my adventurous thirst. I have considered myself, in the past, clever. Clever: not wise. Which leads me to my present state of mind.

The first one I have grieved over previously. In fact it was that peaceful-before-the-storm evening. The infraction was the inability to R.S.V.P; that in itself is not a horrendous habit to cultivate. You could almost cast it into a positive light, as though it helps you keep your house in order. Not only did they come over uninvited, they also relinquished me of my own food and drink. At least they clean up after themselves. On the other hand they gave me a heart attack while doing so. Plates, cups, and forks _are not meant to fly._

The second one I found out on the first day of our "adventure". I was denied my second breakfast. The only one who was empathetic to me was Bombur. As a hobbit I need only a few things. A nice, clean, warm, homely hole -which I sacrificed- a supply of entertainment -which I currently have either through Kili and Fili or through the dwarves singing- and food. I asked Thorin and he responded very business-like, not unkindly, "It is a waste of resources that we will later need." For him it was business. For Hobbits? It's starvation plain and simple. One cannot in good conscious and health skip second breakfast. I have already deemed myself mad though. The Took side of my lineage possessed my mind while I dawdled by the fireplace mantle that morning. Those fair, few seconds I hithered and dithered were seconds in which I was taken advantage of. It was of mine-own conscious that wronged me, but no-one needs to know.

The third and final straw was a handkerchief, or lack thereof. That dreadful morning I found that note left behind for me was the start of my undoing. I rushed around and out the door like a nincompoop without a change of clothes, money, or even a handkerchief. How I could have made such an egregious oversight I don't know. Because I was feeling so fretful about being left behind I think it acceptable that I left my stuff at my home. The dwarves, who are trying to reclaim their home, don't -in my opinion- have that excuse. They don't have any handkerchiefs. When they need to wipe something it would be wiped off unto whatever was in reach. A coat, blanket, sleeve, neighbor -in hindsight that was mainly Kili and Fili as they found that funny and they were the youngest. I was minding my business. Staring at the river that was rippling along side our troop. Trying to keep myself in check. The boisterous brothers -as I prefer to call them- were goofing off as normal. When, out of nowhere, I. Was. Pushed. Into. The. River. A little fact about Hobbits? They. Cannot. Swim. I was lucky this lethargic body of water was also shallow. Unlike Kili and Fili's grave is going to be. I am not even going to put them into separate graves. They don't deserve that.

I contemplate what has lead me to such a tizzy: In each of the days and night of which our begrudging alliance grows so does our familiarity of each other's habits. Whether that is a good or bad thing? They jury is still out. For example, Kili and Fili are the two jokesters and jesters. They both lighten the mood, but which of the two is most funny? The world will never know; I do so wish that they would sort it out instead of dueling each other with pranks. Mainly because I am the innocent victim of their squabbles. Bombur, as I mentioned earlier, is … "thick-boned". He is always the one trailing behind, but not an enormously huge length. There are many other dwarves to be mentioned, but I am not well acquainted with them. One of the only things I am beginning to understand is that dwarves are of a determined and persistent race. They may look slow and cumbersome, but they can march. Not only am I being introduced to some of the dwarves subtle -if you can call it that- nuances, but to their negative quirks as well. These quirks have happened over the course of our time together. I am thrown back to what they where and when they happened.

"YO- YOU BUFFOONS! I CANNOT BELIEVE YOU JUST pushed me into the river." My voice drops to a deadly whisper. The brother's faces echo each other's fear and apprehension. Foolish, Tookish-ness is what got me into this mess. Clear-headed, concise Baggins is what will get me out. "I have kept quiet when you turned your harmless banter into hurtful derogatory remarks about me. My size, my weight. My weight _for_ my size. I have helped as much as I could with least amount of external complaining as possible. I let you man-handle my dishes, my chairs, my table. But no more. You will respect me as a legitimate part of your group. I did not have to sign on. I could have left your bundle off at thirteen, but did I? No. No I did not. I may not be used to this kind of lifestyle, In fact I will freely admit that, but I would like to think that I have adjusted quite well if I do say so myself." I somehow finish off coolly. Throughout the entire monologue I remained aloof. How? I genuinely don't know. Then Kili had to speak.

" You're complaining now, so that kind-of contradicts everything you just said." Kili admonishes while waggling a finger at me. I freeze for a moment. Everything happens in a blur. A dream. The peaceful bubble that cold indifference creates, burst. I run forward. My fist, which I didn't notice had formed in the first place, flies. My Baggins side screams in horror while my Took side congratulates me. Who knew enacting my Took side would feel so good?


End file.
